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One day, circa winter 2000, I got really tired of people saying that they felt sorry for me. So I sat down and wrote this. There is another one called Anger Dance that is the more "adult only" response, but this one everyone can read. Also, please note that the last sentence did not and does not mean that I am suicidal. When people saw this originally, they thought that, apparently not thinking about the alternate internal meaning.


Submitted:Nov 18, 2012    Reads: 23    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Daily, more like moment by moment, I choose not to feel sorry for myself. To my rational thinking self, that's always seemed like a waste of time and what little energy I have most days. (I mean internal energy). But people have said it so often lately that I am beginning to feel like there must be something about me that I am missing.

And so, I actually made myself sit in front of my bathroom mirror a few minutes ago, trying to figure it out. Here is what I saw:

I just got my hair cut, so it is well shaped, if not recently combed. There's too much depth in my eyes for them to ever be completely free of shadows, but you have to know they're there to see them and take more time than most people have ever given me if to even stop to wonder why they're there. But that's true for every human; and shadows do not always mean sorrow. They are very dry usually, and one tends to "wander" a little, but they do their job well enough.

There's nothing extraordinary about my nose, it's probably Italian. There's a little too much facial hair for my liking, that's probably Italian, too, but it's not glaringly obvious at this moment. There's nothing extraordinary about my ears, on the outside anyway. They do hear extremely well. Well shaped chin. Lips are kind of dry as usual lately, and one is bigger than the other; but again, that's pretty universally normal; and they're often smiling, saying something, or singing anyway. The caregivers often praise the fact that I obviously never needed braces on my teeth, and I'm very thankful for a working tounge.

All in all, it's a pretty likable face, decorated with my own original eyebrows, bushy as they are, and no makeup, mostly because no one has ever in my life had or taken the time to apply a daily beauty regime. Thank God that I have never yet desperately needed one. My cheeks have just a little natural color usually. I guess one can say that I'm literally an "egghead," but that also is normal for us people who were inpatient to enter the world. (Later, we sometimes wonder what our hurry was, but that's beside the point. :-).

My shoulders, neck legs, and back are only slightly, but noticeably, bent; and they do hurt sometimes, but that is par for the course for most "permanently seated" folks. I am generally satisfied with my overall body shape, though I am pretty short. And I'm wearing a cool color combination today; black and burgundy. My feet are tiny, but I don't use them in the customary way for long stretches of time, so it doesn't really matter.

My arms are weak by most standards; but strong enough to hold precious people and necessary things. My hands are slightly "deformed," but I can still fold them in prayer and raise them in praise. I can move my chair around well enough to dance. I can hold a pencil to sign my name, legibly. I can hold another hand, and quarters for ice cream and hot chocolate. I can feed myself apple slices, chicken pieces, and even dilly bars, when necessary. I can turn pages. I can insert CDs into my player and push buttons. What more does one need "normal" hands for?

My chair is cool, it gets me around well; and it has tiny rainbows within the paint.

So, it must not be anything external that people see and pity. It is something internal? It's true that if the mirror was an imaging scanner, I would most likely see brain damage in my head, but none of what makes me Amber is in that area.

Daily, doing God's best in me, I strive to be His Eyes. Using them, I see in me a strong person, a survivor with many gifts yet to be given and received, loved beyond comprehension by her Father.

People that pity me, I really pity you! You are missing so much if you don't see that the above statement applies to more than just me. Every life is value full. If you don't see that, your world is a cold place, and I wouldn't choose to live in it even if I could have the strength of Sampson if I did!





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